Retribution
by LadyShiva17
Summary: Following Selina, he discovers she has been horribly beaten. Angry, Bruce makes two promises. First, to find her attacker. Second, retribution.
1. Part One: I

**A/N: **New story 'bout my two favorite characters. Duh. But this time they are put into a much more dire situation. Not sure how long this will be, but I will try to keep you updated. PLEASE read and review! They are helpful to me. And you know how much I love it when you do.... :P

So, I give you the beginning of... RETRIBUTION. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **I do NOT own the characters in this story or anything else like that. They belong to Detective Comics.... Not me............... BUT this STORY and situations DO belong to me. XP

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Retribution : Part One

_Somebody's going to pay. _That was the second thought that entered his mind when he found her. The first being, _No! _

He'd been tracking her movements with the aid of Oracle by her com link. When it stopped blinking on the Batmobile's onboard screen, he knew something was wrong.

The docks of Gotham Marina. That's where he found her. Pier nine.

_No!_

Rushing to her side, he fought the urge to vomit, his body's natural gag reflex, when he saw.

_Somebody's going to pay._

Whoever that someone was had been merciless with her. Placing two fingers on the side of her neck, he barely recognized a pulse.

Trying to control his emotions, he cautiously slid his arms beneath her crumpled form to lift her. A horrified moan almost escaped his lips when he felt her body lose all rigidity. She was like a wet rag, limp in his hands.

But his feelings got the better of him when lifting her revealed the blood. Without meaning to, he let out a loud, bursting sob. She'd lost so much blood. So much.

As he carried her to the large black vehicle, he examined her injuries. Two knife wounds, one in her stomach, one in her side, both probably four or more inches deep. Likely the cause for the extreme loss of blood.

Her goggles had been shattered, which was nearly impossible, he'd made sure of it. Minor scratches marred her otherwise peaceful face. The rest of her cowl was torn off, revealing her short black hair, sticky from soaking in the crimson pool.

Directly under her left eye was a darkening patch of purple. She'd been hit there. Where his hand was placed under her ribcage, he could feel the sickening bumps of several protruding ribs. He was extra careful not to cause her any further pain as he held her.

Reaching the Batmobile, he delicately laid her down on the passenger seat. Something inside his chest swelled when her head lolled lifelessly to one side, as if unattached. Bending over, he gently brushed her bangs out of her eyes, which were swollen shut.

He closed the car door, got into the driver's seat and quickly started the engine. Calm enough to speak steadily again, he contacted Oracle as he ripped down the street.

"O?"

"_You found her?"_ She sounded worried.

He swallowed before answering her. "Yes. Call Leslie. And contact Alfred. Tell him to meet me at the clinic. And Barbara?"

"_Yes?"_

"Hurry. She's... she's not...." He couldn't bring himself to finish.

"_It's alright, Bruce. I understand. Oracle out." _And the line became silent again.

Bruce shifted, aggressively, and put more pressure on the gas pedal. Light from the street lamps flickered every few seconds through the car's windshield, illuminating the interior.

Under one of these flashes, Selina's broken body caught his eye. He scrutinized her form again, while watching the road.

It was her hands, her lethal synthetic claws, that he'd noticed. Every claw on her right hand was smashed, but curiously, none on her left. He frowned.

He scanned her slender yet muscular form. The skin tight black vinyl suit she wore was tattered beyond repair, with jagged tears along her thighs, arms, and stomach, revealing her pink flesh.

Evidently, she had chosen not to wear the protective Kevlar, even though he had insisted that she should. Especially in recent weeks.

Under the sporadic lighting, it was difficult for Bruce to know what had made the rips. Something sharp, possibly the same knife that....

Enroute to the city again, he rounded a hairpin turn and winced involuntarily when Selina's head rolled with the car's movements.

There was a set of traffic lights up ahead, but when it changed to yellow, he didn't slow down. On the contrary, he sped up and ran through the intersection. Nothing in the world would prevent him from getting Selina the medical treatment she needed right now.

Coming into a brightly lit part of town, he once again ran his eyes over her motionless body. After a few counted seconds, terror gripped him when he realized that she was truly motionless. The slight rise and fall of her chest had ceased. She wasn't breathing.

He fought the instinct to panic and made a quick decision. "Auto command four-nine-five." The Batmobile's onboard computer automatically responded. "_Auto proceed confirmed. Destination: Park Row Clinic."_

Releasing his hold on the steering wheel, Batman frantically searched the overhead console for the correct compartment. Locating the one he wanted, he forced it open and grabbed the syringe inside.

Hurriedly, he removed the needle's safeguard with his teeth and used his other hand to elevate her arm. Some of the black material still covered the required area, and he swiftly wrenched it off, exposing the inside crook of her elbow.

_You will _not _die, _he promised.

Grimacing, Bruce stabbed her limp arm with the adrenalin shot. In her condition, the epinephrine would wake her up enough just to continue breathing. Right away she gasped for air, although it was barely audible. Wearily, he heaved a long sigh of flooding relief as he watched her chest begin to move steadily again.

Setting aside the emptied syringe, he faced forward and regained manual control of the vehicle. Out the window, he read the street signs. Leslie's walk-in clinic was close. In a few moments, the Batmobile came screeching to a halt in the alley behind the building.

Opening the passenger door, he scooped her damaged body up in his strong arms and carried her into the clinic.

Alfred was waiting at the back door. He gasped when he caught a glimpse of Catwoman's disfigured form. Batman moved past him without stopping and ran straight into the emergency room that had been prepared by Leslie.

Already in the room, the white-haired doctor rushed to Selina's side as Bruce laid her gently on the hospitable bed. Doctor Thompkins' hand flew to her mouth in reaction to seeing the patient's physical state.

"Oh, Bruce...," she murmured, examining Selina. "You were right to send Alfred over here. I will be able to use the extra pair of hands."

He nodded and stepped one foot out of the room to motion to Alfred, who soon entered the room.

Alfred, having years of experience tending to his young master's numerous wounds, needed no briefing on the procedures to follow. Bruce stood back and watched his two friends wash and don their medical gloves.

His eyes moved slowly over to the bruised woman in the bed, and his gaze soon settled on her shattered face. He felt a knot in his stomach, twisting uncomfortably. Then he realized, he was scared for her. Scared for _him. _What if....?

Leslie and Alfred were rushing around each other, attempting to stabilize her. They were becoming louder, more frantic, and this concerned Bruce.

"Is everything all right?" He asked, worried. "Can I help?"

Leslie turned and quickly came over to where he was standing. She tried to remain calm, but he could see the fright in her eyes. However, she put a warm hand on his shoulder. "Bruce, right now, the best thing would be if you got out of here and –"

"I'm not leaving her," he interjected.

Leslie sighed. "I understand that you... feel this way," she paused, wondering if she had chosen the right words. "But Alfred and I cannot afford any distractions. I know you want to help, but the most help you can be is if you were someplace else. Please." She gave him a pleading look before turning her attention back to Selina.

Indignant, Batman took a deep breath, but he agreed with Leslie's reasoning and, after shooting one last painstaking glance at Selina, exited the emergency room.

Once outside, he chided himself for being so selfish. His...– Selina was fighting for her life, and yet he was willing to put that in jeopardy for his own comfort.

Though he had enormous faith in the two people whose hands she was now in, Bruce couldn't help but restlessly pace the white tiled floor. He was no expert, but he estimated that her chances of survival were less than fifty percent.

Soon, his anxiety evolved into a tormenting guilt. How could he have let her get hurt? It was overwhelming. There was an inviting plastic chair in front of him. He kicked it. Hard. Thankfully, the others were too busy to hear the crash out in the hall.

Suddenly his com link sounded and he heard Barbara's voice.

"_How is she?"_

"Alfred and Leslie are working on her. I don't think I will know for a while," he paused. "She's in awful shape, Barbara.... I've never seen her this bad before...."

Oracle was quiet for a moment. "_Do _you _need anything, Bruce?"_

The guilt had been exchanged for anger. "I need to know who did this to her."


	2. Part One: II

**A/N:**Here is the next... installment. I know you're tryin to put the pieces together. Ha... So am I.... Please Read and Review! No scorching though. :|

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Previously:

"_How is she?"_

"Alfred and Leslie are working on her. I don't think I will know for a while," he paused. "She's in awful shape, Barbara.... I've never seen her this bad before...."

Oracle was quiet for a moment. _"Do _you_ need anything, Bruce?"_

The guilt had been exchanged for anger. "I need to know who did this to her."

* * *

Retribution: Part One: II

Though he remained calm, determination and fury had clearly filled his voice.

"_Orders?"_ Oracle inquired, cautiously.

Bruce frowned. "I'll have to return to the marina. Inspect it thoroughly. Try to find something helpful and –"

"_No,"_ she contradicted him. "_You stay with Selina. I'll send one of the boys out that way."_

He was silent.

"_Is there anything else I can do?" _She asked.

After thinking it over, he answered her. "See if there were any security cameras in the vicinity, and check for possible footage of the... attack taking place. That's all I can think of right now, but I'll contact you again if I need to." He walked down the hall and, bending, picked up the freshly dented chair. "And O?"

"_I'm listening?_"

He set the chair down outside the emergency room. "Thank you." There was a pause.

"_She's going to be okay, Bruce. You'll see,"_ she tried to assure him. He didn't say anything. "_I'll call you when I have news. Oracle out."_

Sitting himself as best he could in the mangled chair, he prepared to wait. Soon, Alfred came out for additional supplies, but he had nothing to report and returned to Leslie within seconds.

Abruptly, his com link alerted him and Dick's voice came on the line. "_Barbara told me what happened." _He paused. "_Tim and I are on our way to the docks. Is there anything in particular we should be looking for?"_

"Clues to the attacker's identity. Anything out of the ordinary. I would do it myself, but...." He trailed as he pictured Selina's bruised face.

Dick understood. "_I know. How are you holding up?"_

It took Bruce a moment, but he gave him the standard, detached answer. "I'm fine." At least Dick could not tell by his face that he was lying.

"_Right,"_ he replied, unconvinced. "_We'll let you know if we find anything." _Their transmission ended.

_Liar,_ he rebuked himself. He wasn't fine. He was amazed by how much he was being affected by this situation. By Selina.... She was always so strong, she would make it. She had to.

Elbows on his knees, the Crusader rested his head in his hands. Just then, a weary looking Alfred came out the door. Right away, he noticed Bruce sitting there, obviously troubled. He placed a hand on the young man's shoulder, but not before first removing the scarlet smudged glove. Bruce raised his head to Alfred.

"Master Bruce?" The butler inquired. Bruce sat up straight and turned to get a better look at the older man.

"Alfred. Tell me," He grabbed the ungloved hand. "Will she make it?"

When Alfred pursed his lips and shook his head, Bruce came agonizingly close to crying out in grief. But Alfred caught him in time, realizing what Bruce had been led to conclude.

"Oh, no, no! It is still much too soon to say, for certain," he clarified.

Allowing a deep breath to leave his lungs, Bruce grimaced and began kneading his forehead. _Selina's not –... she's alive. _He barely noticed that Alfred was still talking. But when he did, he listened.

"The epinephrine you injected her with does not react well with morphine, so we waited before giving it to her, which means we had to wait before beginning treatment," Alfred explained. "And that means we will not have the answer to your question for quite a bit longer. I'm sorry."

Bruce quickly shook his head. "It's alright. I just wasn't thinking.... Thanks, Alfred."

Mister Pennyworth smiled, comprehensively. Before he could say anything, though, Leslie's voice rang out from inside the emergency room, requesting Alfred's assistance.

"Excuse me," he nodded to Bruce and rushed back inside to help Leslie, closing the door beind him.

With an exhausted sigh, Bruce sat back in his mistreated chair and, failing to relax, anxiously resumed waiting.

During the following six hours, Bruce had only left this position twice, and he had only seen Alfred and Leslie leave the emergency ward a total of three times altogether. He heard metal utensils on metal trays, the muffled noise of the oxygen mask they must have given Selina, and other machines beeping.

One of them he recognized as a pulse regulator. The blips were sounding at a relatively normal rate again. This slightly eased Bruce's worries, but he continued tapping his fingers along the edge of the plastic chair.

Another hour later, the sun was rising and Bruce still hadn't bothered to exchange his... work clothes for daytime attire. He also hadn't slept or eaten. As a result, he was a sorry state.

The mask and cowl had been removed over five hours ago and his dark hair was messy, tusseled from periodically running his hands nervously through it. Since neglecting to shave the morning before, Bruce had, by now, also developed a five o'clock shadow along and around his jaw. His eyes had dark rings about them from both the lack of rest and the general disquiet of the evening.

His gloves, too, had been taken off earlier. Restless, he had started studying the countless scars that traced his palms. These ones, added to the markings that decorated his forearms, could be likened to a road map. He'd grown used to it.

Selina had always had smooth, relatively unspoiled skin, until now. Would her face be scarred? How long would it take to heal? Surely he could find something, anything, that would accelerate the process. He shut his eyes as he thought about this.

Nightwing had contacted Bruce a few hours ago, and he had relayed some intriguing information. Among other pieces of evidence he and Robin had collected, including blood, fabric, and hair samples, there was one item in particular.

A brown paper bag containing a single, red tassel-shaped flower.

Oracle learned that the bloom originally belonged to the plant Amaranthus caudatus. The bag must have been dropped off after Batman had left the marina, which means that someone had been there the entire time.

Even more unsettling was the common name used for the crimson-purple Amaranthus caudatus: 'Love Lies Bleeding'. Evidently, whoever had been behind it all wanted to draw Batman's attention to the sick coincidence.

There were no weapons at the scene. Barbara had found several security cameras in the area, but it would take time for her to go through all the footage.

Catwoman had once said that, as Batman, he had "a lot of strings." They weren't strings. They were supports, and for probably the millionth time, he was grateful to have them.

Bruce's recollections were put on hold when Leslie appeared beside him. Her weathered face held a tired expression. She leaned against the wall and wiped her forehead with the back of her white sleeve. He waited for her to speak.

"Her injuries were extensive, to say the least. The stab wounds were deep, but fortunately missed her important organs, and we stopped the bleeding. She had lost massive amounts."

He'd seen that. Leslie continued.

"She had four broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, and fractures on her left arm and collarbone."

Bruce swallowed. She went on.

"Added to that, she has a nasty bruise under her eye, and probably a concussion, but we won't know for sure until she wakes up. And her face is a mess, considering the shards of glass we had to remove."

Leslie paused and Bruce lowered his eyes, his brow creasing.

Scars.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke. "Can I see her?" It came out as a whisper.

Batman's physician nodded. "Go ahead, but she's still heavily sedated."

Bruce acknowledged the fact with a nod and stood. He didn't care if she couldn't speak, or if she wouldn't hear him. He needed to see her. Plain and simple.

For the first time since bringing her in, he entered the emergency room. Alfred was cleaning up the area where they had been working. Bruce was glad that the room wasn't still... sullied from earlier. As soon as he saw Bruce walk in, Alfred inconspicuously busied himself elsewhere.

Roving, his eyes were drawn to the hospitable bed, made with a fresh pillow and sheets, and the woman in it. Oxygen tubes in her nose and another penetrating her arm, her face was bandaged in certain places where, he guessed, there had once been pieces of glass from her goggles.

Quietly closing the door behind him, he took a few more steps towards her. Under her eye, the color of the bruise had progressed from fresh purple to dark reddish brown. The swelling had also gone down.

Her left arm was secured in a sling and, at the base of her neck, the collarbone was set. At her side, his inspection moved down, along her chest and stomach. Beneath the thin blanket, he could tell that her entire midriff had been wrapped in bandages, including her ribs, side, and abdomen.

He watched as she breathed, with the help of the machine, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest. It was comforting to see, again.

Leslie wasn't exaggerating when she said 'heavily' sedated. He saw, while she slept, her hand twitch. Maybe she was dreaming. Or having a nightmare, possibly a replay of the last moments before.... Bruce hoped she was dreaming.

At least she wasn't in pain right now. But, as agonizing as it was, he knew she would be, as soon as she woke up and the drugs wore off. Bruce cringed, in spite of himself.

There was a stool in the corner behind him and he wheeled it over. Before sitting, he leaned over and cautiously moved her striking black hair away from her eyes. He ached to touch her, to hold her.

He was glad that he was no longer wearing his gloves. He hated them. The gauntlets made him feel muted: to feeling, to emotion, to _love_. However, they were a necessary element of his costume and therefore, he wore them.

Having to stretch across her body to get to her right hand, he was careful to not put any weight on her midsection. Lightly, he placed his bare hand over hers. His hand was warm and clammy, while her skin was cold.

He wasn't accustomed to her skin being cold.


	3. Part One: III

**A/N:**I. Am. So. Crazy. Sorry. Sorry for not getting my arse in gear for you people. Please forgive my lazy hide. Anyways, here's Ret numba 3! Hope it's okay. Thanks again for being so incredibly patient. Remember to R&R! (Also, I've decided to add "Previously's" to the Retribution chapters since they start exactly where they leave off. Might be more convenient.)

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Previously:

Having to reach across her body to get to her right hand, he was careful to not put any weight on her midsection. Lightly, he placed his bare hand oer hers. His hand was warm and clammy, while her skin was cold.

He wasn't accustomed to her skin being cold.

* * *

RETRIBUTION Part One: III

But it was. And according to the Dark Knight, it was his fault. He cursed himself for not being there in time, for not making sure she wore the extra Kevlar. Why hadn't she?

Catwoman had been assisting Batman during the past few weeks. Together, they had been coming down hard on a new gang, who coined themselves as _Screech_, that had been making their mark in Gotham, including the East End.

Armed robberies, carjacking, that sort of thing. Screech was an independent group, which meant they weren't involved with any of the local mob bosses like Cobblepot or Thorne. Originally based in Metropolis, they had recently relocated to Gotham. Fresh opportunities.

It wasn't difficult work, but the men were always armed, and since Bruce was aware that Selina usually did not wear a reinforced suit, he had been insisting that she did. As a precaution.

That night, he and Catwoman were supposed to meet at Gotham Cathedral, where they would take out the remaining Screech members, ending the gangs joyride through the city's underworld. But when Selina had failed to make contact, Batman became worried.

He and Oracle tracked and pinpointed her location. She was nowhere near the Cathedral. In fact, she was on the opposite side of the city, at the Gotham Marina.

And when he finally got to her, he was too late. Bruce's stomach dropped in revolt as he recalled the state he had found her in. Nearly dead.

It didn't make sense. She knew the plan, so she should have had the Kevlar on underneath. Perhaps, once she awoke and was able to speak, she'd have some answers. Until then, Bruce would do everything he could to find out on his own.

Bruce returned his attention to the young woman in the bed, the woman who'd come to mean so much to him. Yet, he never properly told her this. And because of his... undecidedness he'd been dangerously close to missing his chance to.

He hadn't notice at first, but when he looked down, he realized that he'd been gently massaging Selina's cold, limp hand all along. It was beginning to warm. Bruce stared at her calm face.

Her shaggy, raven bangs perfectly adorned her features, including dark, flawless eyebrows, genuinely full lips, and thick, black lashes that, under them, contained those mesmerizing emerald eyes that had captivated him on more than one occasion. Beneath the bandages, Bruce could also see a natural rouge returning to her cheeks.

_You're beautiful, _he thought before opening his mouth. "You will always be beautiful, Selina," he whispered, softly.

_Even with scars_, he added mentally. He gently squeezed the hand he was grasping and leaned in. His tender expression was soon replaced by a shameful frown.

"I'm so sorry, Selina...," he whispered, hoarsely. "I let this happen.... I...." His darkened eyes stared downwards.

"I don't know who did this to you," he swallowed and his voice changed. It was deeper and more daunting. Almost a growl. "But I'll find them, Selina. I will. And when that happens... we'll have retribution. For _you_, Selina."

Bruce grimaced at his own words. There would be no peace on the streets of Gotham until then. If it meant gaining one step closer to finding the monsters that attacked Selina, he'd shake down every street villain if he had to.

He took a deep breath and started to stand up. Slowing, he stopped to gaze down at her face. This woman, who could be so stubborn and impetuous, yet compassionate and sophisticated at the same time. This wonderfully infuriating woman, who had possessed enough gall to make him love her.

And he did. More than he knew.

Her eyelids fluttered slightly, but didn't open. She wasn't about to wake up any time soon. Searching her face, the only visibly unscathed skin was her nose. So he kissed it. He leaned down next to her ear and whispered.

Her facial features betrayed no reaction. He shook his head. Of course she wouldn't. In such a deep slumber, she wouldn't hear him. She didn't hear him. Bruce turned and quietly walked out of the room.

At the other end of the outside hall, Alfred and Leslie were involved in a hushed conversation with each other. Silently, Bruce made his way over to where they stood.

"You're saying the patient may _not_ wake up?" Alfred's voice was strained and full of concern.

Leslie wearily rubbed the middle of her forehead. "I'm saying that being comatose is a possibility."

There was a long, empty silence.

"We'll just have to wait and see," Leslie sighed. "She's got about an hour or so to go before the sedatives wear off. Best case scenario, she wakes up in two hours with a concussion. Worst case, she doesn't wake up at all."

Bruce halted abruptly. The soles of his boots squeaked as they made fast contact with the glossy linoleum floor, alerting the others. Leslie spun around and faced Bruce, who was only a few feet away. Alfred frowned, mostly because of what he'd recently been told, but didn't say anything. Leslie opened her mouth to speak, but Bruce spoke first.

"Selina could end up in a coma." His voice didn't crack. "I heard you."

Leslie took off her glasses to stare up at the ragged-looking young man. "With the amount of blunt trauma she sustained to her head –" She started to explain, but was cut short.

"I know, Leslie."

The doctor pursed her lips, but she changed the subject. "Regardless, I'm going to keep her here, in intensive care, for a while. But _you_ should go home," she advised. "Get some rest." Turning to Alfred, she pointed accusingly. "That goes for you, too."

Alfred nodded sheepishly before heading back into the emergency room, intent on gathering up a few more things. Bruce watched as he walked by, but turned back to Leslie.

"I'll call you if anything changes," she assured him, studying his expressionless face. He gave no sign that he was even listening. After a moment, though, he looked down to his feet and words quietly came out.

"Thank you," he said, and as soon as the words left his mouth Leslie enveloped him in her arms.

At that moment, it wasn't Batman, or Gotham's prince Bruce Wayne that she was comforting. It was the same, heartbroken little boy she had helped all those years ago, who needed her again now.

"Oh, Bruce," she whispered, rubbing his back with her weathered hands. "I'm here."

Bruce carefully pulled away, nodding silently. The last thing he wanted was his voice betraying the emotion that he knew could burst at any time. But while his vocal chords remained unyielding, his facial expression gave everything away. A hard, steely grimace had weaved itself through his features, creating bold creases and a jaw that was sturdy like concrete.

Leslie saw the look on his face, and the light quickly leaving his eyes. "Selina's a strong girl," Leslie nodded along with her words, as if reassuring herself that they were true.

Bruce knew she was right, but he didn't voice his agreement. Instead, he took two steps back and easily stripped away the heavy, black fabric of his cape, which was still encrusted with Selina's blood. He stared at the large piece of dark cloth in his hands and frowned.

A second later, Alfred appeared again in the hallway and caught the expression lacing the man's features. Bruce quickly blinked and shook away his thoughts before anyone could inquire after his trembling hands and glassy eyes. His body was betraying him at every opportunity it seemed.

He spun to face Alfred, who stepped forward. "Here," he lifted his arm and held the cape out towards the older man.

"Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, taking the fabric from him.

Retrieving the articles of his costume that he'd tossed aside earlier, he explained. "I'll be going home as Bruce Wayne, Alfred," he said. "But first I need you to get me Selina's suit so I can examine it for possible leads to her attacker."

"Of course," Alfred nodded. "I'll just – "

"Let _me_ grab it for you," Leslie stopped him short and strode past them into the other room, leaving the two men alone in the hall.

"What of the Batmobile, sir? You'll not be driving it back to the Cave?" Alfred asked, as Bruce had mentioned he would be returning under his public identity.

"I can program the car's computer to return without me," he replied evenly.

"Here's her suit, or what's left of it." Leslie arrived before them, the tattered and stained remains of Catwoman's suit gracing her hands.

Bruce took one glance and had to stifle a shudder. If he'd had trouble with his own suit being covered in blood stains, Selina's suit could have floored him. When he last saw it, it was clinging to her body, even with all of the jagged rips and tears. It looked terrible then, but now that it was here in his hands, he realized just how completely unwearable it really was.

Catwoman's suit was made with a special protective material, a combined weave of lightweight Nomex and Kevlar fibers, with an additional outer layer of shiny, black vinyl.

"For the hell of it," was the answer Bruce recieved when asking her why she insisted on the aforementioned fabric. "And it's great for distracting the bad guys," she smirked and walked away from him, swinging her curvaceous hips as she did so, commanding that Bruce's eyes follow her movements.

Suddenly, she swung a look over her shoulder, her green irises sparkling. "Don'tcha think?" When she winked at him then, he proceeded to engulf her in his arms and kiss her, as he had done many times previously.

But this memory significantly revolved around her suit and the original perfection of it. _So unlike the state it was in now_, he thought, as he eyed the limp, black suit, made shiny with the red fluid that had since dried to a dark, crusted crimson. Yes, he was going to follow through on his promise, whatever it took.

Changing into the civilian clothes that Alfred had presumably packed in advance, Bruce traded his grey suit leggings and form-fitting shirt, mottled with dark red smears that he didn't care to look at, for a pair of dark slacks and a crisp, blue button-up shirt. Similarly, he replaced his three pound, steel-toed leather boots with a pair of considerably lighter Italian dress shoes.

He hardly took note of the expensive attire, though, as he roughly shoved his legs into the pants and quickly pulled the shirt over his head, not bothering to waste time unbuttoning and then re-buttoning.

He couldn't care less about the clothes, or about sleeping when he arrived home, as Alfred and Leslie wrongly assumed he would do and yet would probably insist on it anyways. All he cared about was taking Selina's ruined suit back to the cave, studying it, and coming straight back here to check on said woman. Brunch would be optional.

While Alfred brought the Bavarian round to the clinic's front, Bruce sent instructions to the Batmobile's computer, programming a specific route for the car to one of the many hidden entrances to the Cave.

Bruce heard the tell-tale tap of a car horn outside the clinic, the very gentle honk almost being Alfred's signature, and hurriedly stuffed his and Catwoman's suits into the bag that Leslie had supplied.

On his way to the exit, Bruce stopped by the emergency room one last time. Still very much unconscious, the woman in the bed appeared to be sleeping quite peacefully, as opposed to the faint spasms happening earlier.

Running his fingertips ever so carefully along the small jaw beneath him, he leaned down and softly kissed her mouth, mindful not to press too hard.

Hearing a second, slightly more impatient bleat from outside, Bruce slowly lifted his lips from the ones he was kissing and stood erect, letting his fingers linger, caressing the side of her face before tearing himself away from Selina Kyle.

Almost fifteen minutes later, Bruce sat, thoughtful, in the back seat of the Bavarian with Alfred at the wheel, driving out towards Wayne Manor. That's when his cell phone buzzed, shaking Bruce out of his sleep-deprived stupor.

He didn't even have to muster up a greeting before Barbara's voice came alive on the line. She sounded troubled.

"_Bruce, I found the footage.... And you're not going to like it._"


End file.
